


Rejoice

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Prophecy, Stuck In the Wrong Bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley can't switch back at the end of the events of Good Omens, they have to try and figure out why.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Rejoice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EchoSilverWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSilverWolf/gifts).



“Right. Anyone looking?” Aziraphale asked anxiously.

Crowley glance around, making doubly sure before replying, “Nobody.” He offered his hand to the angel beside him. It was still odd to see his own face looking back, Aziraphale’s rather pinched expression changing it. “Right. Swap back, then?”

They shook hands, Crowley bracing for the odd melting sensation he’d experienced during the initial changeover.

Nothing happened.

He blinked at himself, wondering if Aziraphale was blinking back behind his glasses. _His_ glasses, dammit.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s anxiety sounded strange in Crowley’s voice; the sound exacerbated the shiver of fear running down him.

“Did we do something different?” Crowley asked. “Last time, was there something…”

“I don’t believe so,” Aziraphale replied. He looked down at himself as though to check. “What should we do?”

“The book,” Crowley said, putting more confidence in his voice than he actually felt. “We need to talk to the girl with the book.”

“Anathema,” Aziraphale nodded, Crowley’s hair bobbing gently with the action.

The drive back to Taddfield was strained, Crowley thought. It was difficult enough trying to drive with Aziraphale’s ridiculously short legs, but the angel’s anxious fidgeting was distracting beyond belief.

“How did you know?” Crowley asked all of a sudden.

“How did I know what?” Aziraphale answered, just an edge of irritation in his question.

“That it was the last prophesy?” Crowley said, overtaking a lorry with barely a hair’s breadth of room. “You said it was the last one.”

“Well, it said, ‘When all is said and done,’” Aziraphale replied, frowning.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t another one somewhere,” Crowley grumbled.

They sank into silence until the Bentley screeched to a halt outside Anathema’s cottage.

“Anathema!” Crowley shouted unceremoniously, leaving Aziraphale to follow him out of the car. “Anathema!”

“Alright, alright,” she answered, blinking at them. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Where’s the book?” Crowley asked. “The book, you know the one, we need it.”

“It’s gone,” the witch replied.

“Gone?” Crowley fairly shouted. He turned away in despair, hands gripping Aziraphale’s short hair. It was nowhere near as satisfying. He wanted his own hair back!

“Ah,” Aziraphale stepped forward with an apologetic smile on Crowley’s face. It looked disturbing, the demon thought distractedly. “We were wondering if you remember the last prophesy from the book, by any chance?”

“I spent more time memorising that book than anything else in my whole life,” Anathema retorted. “Of course I know it.” She took a deep breath. “The last prophesy was number 5004. ‘When all is said and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enough ye will be playing with fire.’”

She looked at them expectantly.

“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt those anxious eyes on him before the angel went on, “There’s no chance you…forgot one?”

“Forgot one?” Anathema asked, askance.

“Just a little one, on the back page maybe?”

“There is no chance,” Anathema said.

“So Agnes said nothing about what happens after Armageddon,” Crowley asked, barely holding his frustration and disappointment in. “Nothing, she just looked into the future up to here and then,” he waved one hand in the air, “just stopped.”

Anathema and Newt shared a glance. “Well, not exactly,” Anathema replied. “There was another book.”

“Another book?” Crowley repeated. “Where is it?”

The witch shrugged. “I burned it.”

“You burned it?!” Crowley repeated again, incredulous. “What’d you go and do that for?”

“She doesn’t want to do it anymore,” Newt said defensively. “Agnes didn’t ask us if we wanted to know, and we didn’t. So it’s gone.”

Crowley flexed, wondering if hitting this stupid human would feel as good as he was imagining.

“It’s down in the field,” Anathema said. “If Agnes really wanted you to know something, some of it will have survived the fire.”

“What?” Aziraphale said, confusion in his voice.

Newt shrugged. “Just go with it,” he said. “It’s easier.”

“Which was to the field?” Crowley asked. When Anathema pointed, he turned and strode away, vaguely hearing the angel thank the humans before hurrying to follow.

“Can’t believe they burnt it,” Crowley grumbled. He was having to walk a whole lot faster with these shorter legs; no wonder Aziraphale was always a little out of breath. Ridiculous, these corporeal bodies, and yet he wanted his own back, right now.

“There,” Aziraphale pointed, the tendril of smoke from a pile of ash marking the spot. He wasn’t out of breath; it was strange, covering so much ground in a single step, but it was the hips he had to concentrate on the most. They just kind of…swayed, all on their own. Most disconcerting.

They strode over, neither talking, a sudden tension in the air. What if they didn’t find anything? What if there was no answer to this and they were stuck in the wrong bodies forever?

“Here,” Crowley said, relief flooding his voice as a scrap of parchment revealed itself. He brushed the ash off, nervous. The scrap fluttered as his hand shook.

“Allow me,” Aziraphale murmured, taking the parchment. He cleared his throat. “’Prophesy number one,’” he glanced at Crowley, “’Resign thyself to thy fate, to live in each other forever, and ye shall rejoice in thy altered face.’”

Absolute silence.

“Read it again,” Crowley whispered. The second reading did not change the words; he snatched the parchment back, desperately scanning it. “Where’s the rest? What does that even mean?”

“Perhaps we should ask Anathema,” Aziraphale suggested, pushing down his own confusion. “She has been studying Agnes’ words longer than we have.”

Crowley stared for a second, debating whether to shout or not. In the end he nodded once and followed Aziraphale in somewhat of a daze.

“I have no idea,” Anathema said as they stood in her kitchen. She’d read the paper several times, Newt peering over her shoulder. “But if you found it in the ashes, it’s almost certainly for you.”

“How do you know that?” Crowley asked.

Anathema and Newt shared a glance. “She has a way of making sure the right people see the right prophesy,” Newt said with a slight smile.

“Right, so pretty much if we ‘resign ourselves’, we’ll be happy like this?” Crowley snarled.

Anathema blinked. “What do you mean?” she turned to Crowley. “I thought angels were more,” she waved one hand.

“Angelic?” Aziraphale replied dryly.

“Well, yes,” Anathema said, glancing between them.

“I’m the angel,” Aziraphale said. “We temporarily swapped bodies but there were some issues switching back and we appear to be stuck like this.”

“Ah,” Anathema said. “Choose your face wisely.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale murmured. He sighed. “You really don’t have any idea what Agnes might mean?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Anathema replied. “But if I have any ideas I’ll let you know.”

Aziraphale left her with one of his cards before ushering Crowley out. “Come on,” he said, snatching the keys out of the demon’s hand. Well, his own hand, but it was operated by the demon at the moment. “We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk?” Crowley said, his disgust at the idea shining brightly inn his tone.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said firmly.

He used his long legs – they really were quite marvellous, he got around so much faster – and soon he and Crowley were standing in the woods. Aziraphale liked it here; the feeling of love was still rich and warm in the air.

“Right, what is it?” Crowley said, glancing around crossly.

Aziraphale wondered for a moment if he really couldn’t feel the love in the air, but decided now was not the time. “Crowley,” he began, “I have an idea.”

“An idea,” Crowley said in disbelief. “Hold the phone, the angel has an _idea_.”

“Well, I do,” Aziraphale said defensively. “But if you won’t listen, you won’t know if it’s a good one, so just…just…shut up and let me talk! Please!”

Aziraphale started miserably at Crowley’s shocked expression. He hated having to get cross, but he really did have an idea, and despite the marvellous long legs he really did want to get back into his own body and he really very much wanted to see Crowley’s face again, with Crowley’s expressions on them where they belonged.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I would really rather like to switch back, and I do have an idea.”

“Yeah, alright then,” Crowley said uncomfortably, crossing and re-crossing his arms. “Go on.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and pulled the prophesy from his pocket with difficulty. Crowley’s clothes were not cut for the pockets to be useful. “These are not always as they seem,” he began, giving Crowley a look right before he was about to say something rude. “But I think I might know what this one means.”

He paused, and Crowley replied cautiously, “Go on, angel.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, warming up into his ‘explaining something’ rhythm, “I don’t think it’s as literal as we’re taking it to be. ‘Live in each other forever’ might not mean switching bodies.” He felt his face start to heat up as he continued, “I think it’s about accepting what we mean to each other. Where we hold each other. Inside.”

He watched nervously as Crowley stared, speechless. For a long second the only sound was the wind in the trees and distant animals.

“Okay,” Crowley said cautiously, as though Aziraphale was not quite making sense. “You’re not quite making sense, there.”

“I think,” Aziraphale said, “we have been resisting the fact that for thousands of years you and I have been drawing closer and closer to each other, but neither of us has been willing to admit it.” He cleared his throat, looking determinedly at the demon inhabiting his corporeal body. “I think Agnes is saying we need to be honest with each other about that.”

“And then we’ll change back?” Crowley asked. “That’s what you think she means?”

“Possibly,” Aziraphale said. He held the rest in for a second before it burst out. “Actually I think what she means is we won’t be upset by it anymore. ‘Ye shall rejoice in they altered face’. She’s saying we’ll be happy in these bodies if we’re honest with each other.”

“Honest,” Crowley said, wiping his hand across his face. “You think me, a demon, a foul being of Hell itself, should be honest? About my _feelings?_ ”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said with more enthusiasm and smiling than he really felt. He could hear Crowley working up to a really big rage, which would be followed by a really big sulk and they didn’t have time to waste a year or so with him refusing to talk. “I’ll go first, if you like.”

“You are the angel,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale, who had been pacing, stopped at the edge of bitterness in Crowley’s voice. “You were once, too,” he said quietly. “You were once a being of light.”

“I know,” Crowley said, though his voice was quieter. “I remember.”

“Do you?” Aziraphale replied. Sadness filled him at the regret he could feel rolling off Crowley. “I don’t think it’s possible for someone to fall so far from Heaven they forget love.”

Crowley didn’t reply. He was standing across the clearing now, arms crossed, half turned away, but Aziraphale was sure he was still listening.

“You said you couldn’t feel the love here when we first drove through,” Aziraphale said. “It was so heavy here, I didn’t know how you could miss it.” He touched a tree, the bark rough under his fingertips. Under Crowley’s fingertips. “But I think it’s still there, buried inside you. I’m guessing Hell’s not too big on love, and you were down there for a long time before you came up here.”

“Such a long time,” Crowley whispered.

“Do you want to go back?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“We can’t,” Crowley said. “Not now.”

“But do you want to?” Aziraphale pressed.

“No,” Crowley whispered as though it was a secret. “I don’t. I like it here.”

“So do I,” Aziraphale said. “Heaven was…well, I found my place here on Earth.” He drew a deep breath. “With you.”

“With me?” Crowley repeated.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I know we took a bit to warm up to each other, but now I can’t imagine Earth without you.”

“You want to spend eternity with me?” Crowley asked. “Instead of going back to Heaven?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. He swallowed, wishing the words wouldn’t stick in his throat so. “You’ve become quite dear to me, Crowley.”

The demon didn’t speak, his pale blue eyes – _Aziraphale’s_ pale blue eyes – locked on Aziraphale. He was thinking about it, Aziraphale could see, wondering how honest he should actually be.

“Well,” he said finally, drawing the word out, “I mean, if you want to hang around together…”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warned.

The demon gave him a despairing look. “Fine, I wouldn’t mind if we-”

“Crowley!”

“Fine!” the demon shot back, striding over to glare up at Aziraphale. “You’re the only thing I even care about on this actually quite God-Forsaken Earth. I searched through a burning building for you, angel! I can’t go back to Hell, you can’t go back to Heaven, and I can’t imagine having to spend the rest of time here without you!”

His words rang through the woods, the sound absorbed by the leaf litter until it was gone.

Aziraphale smiled, reaching out one hand to cup the face before him. “And I,” he replied. “Am I dear to you, Crowley?”

“Yes,” Crowley replied, and it was agony incarnate, that word shimmering in the air.

Blue eyes closed, and yellow eyes closed, and the wind sighed with contentment, whipping love around their bodies until they were one…and then two again. 

When Aziraphale opened his eyes, he blinked. He was looking up at Crowley now, the perspective far more natural. “Hello,” he said tentatively, then exhaled in relief. “I believe we’re back, Crowley.”

The yellow eyes remained closed, but Aziraphale watched with amusement as the demon ran his hands over his own body and through his hair. “Thank…well, whoever,” he said, finally looking at Aziraphale. “You look different,” he said, frowning. “Why is your face not quite the same?”

“You too,” Aziraphale said happily. “I believe it might be all that love.”

“In the woods,” Crowley replied, glancing around as though he might be able to see it.

“No,” Aziraphale said. “Not in the woods, Crowley.”

Crowley glanced over, and though he didn’t speak Aziraphale knew he understood. One step at a time, though. One day he might even admit he _can_ feel love, Aziraphale mused. Hopefully before the end of the world.


End file.
